


dim a little, shine a lot

by SatyrSyd37



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Asexual Character, M/M, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-05 02:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12784599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatyrSyd37/pseuds/SatyrSyd37
Summary: Oikawa has finally achieved his dream of becoming a SETI researcher - even though he had to push everyone he loved away to get there. But friendship has a way of pushing back. Things start to get messy when Oikawa runs into Iwaizumi after five years of radio silence, and that's when the aliens come in.





	1. SETI

**Author's Note:**

> holy shit - i can't believe i finally get to post this. ive had the idea of SETI researcher!Oikawa since I took a course on aliens last spring, and now that idea's finally coming to fruition!! 
> 
> much thanks to my friend bananaman, who came up with the most stellar name for the town: Harusei (明星), which is basically “star illumination”
> 
> thank you so so so much to my beta, leon. not only did you give incredible advice, not only did you supply me with wonderful resources for all my astronomy and SETI needs, but your enthusiasm for me fic has been incredibly motivating!!
> 
> and thank you sam, for your [amazing art](http://mephalasturm.tumblr.com/post/168136599921/here-is-an-art-for-dim-a-little-shine-a-lot-by)!! getting to see your process was super motivating,and the final product is absolutely GORGEOUS and PERFECTLY fits the tone of the fic!!!
> 
> (oh hey look i made a [playlist](http://satyr-syd.tumblr.com/post/168125160089/dim-a-little-shine-a-lot-a-playlist-by-satyrsyd))

####  **i. SETI** ****

“SETI, the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence, is an exploratory science that seeks evidence of life in the universe by looking for some signature of its technology.”  
-[ SETI Institute](https://www.seti.org/node/61)

* * *

  

**_12 years old_ **

_“Remind me why I keep agreeing to this?”_

_“Because Iwa-chan loves me!”_

_Iwaizumi socks him in the shoulder._

_“Mean!” Tooru says, rubbing his arm. He nudges Iwaizumi, hovering next to his ear. “You can deny it all you want, but I know it’s true~”_

_Iwaizumi shoves him away, pushing Tooru back against the couch. “S-Shut up, the movie’s starting.”_

_Tooru immediately sits up, attention snapping back to the screen. He knows Iwaizumi’s using it as a distraction to escape more teasing, but Tooru’s not going to miss this movie for anything._

_He pulls his blanket_ _—_ _the one with the glow-in-the-dark alien heads on it_ _—_ _tighter around him, and leans up on the edge of the couch._

 _For as long as Tooru can remember, nearly every Saturday, he and Iwaizumi watched a movie together. This week’s movie is an American film called_ Contact _. His older sister told him about the movie a few months ago, raving about how thought provoking it was and how much Tooru would enjoy it, if only he could wrap his little twelve-year old mind around it. Tooru convinced his parents to let him watch it anyways, just to spite her. The moment they gave him permission, Tooru demanded Iwaizumi watch it with him that Saturday._

_Now that he’s finally seeing it, Tooru is determined to understand every word of the movie. So he leans forward in his seat, eyes focused on the screen._

_It opens on a view of Earth. Snippets of audio from American media play in the background while the perspective zooms out, going past Mars, and Jupiter, and Saturn, past the solar system completely, past the galaxy itself, past a million galaxies of a million stars that merge together in a bright white light. Tooru has never felt smaller than he does now._

_He watches intently as the story begins, detailing the life and plights of Dr. Eleanor Arroway, a SETI researcher._

_“Wait… what the hell is happening?” Iwaizumi asks half an hour in._

_“Iwa-chan! Don’t use vulgar language!” Tooru scolds._

_Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Just explain it to me, dumbass.”_

_Tooru sticks out his tongue. “I’m not explaining anything to anyone who calls me dumbass.” But Tooru pauses the film anyway, explaining how Dr. Arroway, a SETI researcher, was seeking funding to use radio satellites to listen for the aliens._

_Tooru has seen many, many movies about aliens. The extensive collection of DVD’s on his shelf labeled “ALIENS!”, already fifteen movies long, is only growing. But none of them are anything like this movie. Whereas the rest deal in terrifying alien invasions, friendships with quirky extraterrestrials, and other fantastical plotlines,_ Contact _feels real. The events that transpire throughout the movie feel like they could happen in real life. It’s accessible in a way Tooru has never experienced before, and with each passing moment, Tooru invests himself deeper into the story and deeper into the world the movie creates, because it’s a place he’s already familiar with, the real world._

 _By the time the movie finishes, Iwaizumi has fallen asleep on his shoulder. Tooru slips out from under him, careful not the wake him, and runs to the family computer. He boots it up and immediately searches for_ Contact _._

 _The Internet tells him a lot about the movie. It was based on a book by Carl Sagan, an astronomer and science communicator whose name Tooru is familiar with. The radio transmitter Arecibo was actually the Very Large Array in New Mexico. Dr. Eleanor Arroway was based on a real woman named Jill Tarter. Most importantly, he learns that the SETI_ _—_ _the Search for Extraterrestrial Life_ _—_ _is real. There was an actual institution for which people were actively searching for alien life._

_Tooru is baffled. Tooru is starstruck. Tooru is determined to one day become a researcher for SETI._

 

**_22 years old_ **

_The door to Iwaizumi’s apartment is a dark, forest green. Aside from the textured strokes of paint, it’s completely smooth, no bevels or engravings. A matte golden handle sits at about waist level, keyhole blackened with grime. It teases him, begging for him to take take his keys out and open the door like he always does, letting himself in without warning._

_Tooru takes out his keyring but doesn’t use it on the door. In this situation, it doesn’t feel right to do that. Instead, he slits his thumbnail through the keyring and slides off the key to Iwaizumi’s apartment._

_Tooru takes a deep breath. He tightens his grip around the key until it edges on painful, allowing the pain to ground him. He can do this_ _—_ _for both Iwaizumi’s good and his own, he has to._

_The moment he gains the resolve to finally lift his fist, the door swings open._

_Iwaizumi’s eyes widen when he sees Tooru standing there, but only for a moment. “Oh… hey, Tooru.”_

_“Hey,” Tooru manages to say. He looks at the middle of Iwaizumi’s forehead, the place where his wrinkle lines are most pronounced from all his scowling, so he doesn’t have to look him in the eye. “You look… well.”_

_Iwaizumi snorts. “That bad, huh?”_

_Iwaizumi looks like shit. His hedgehog hair is flat on one side and ruffled on the other, shiny with grease. His bloodshot eyes make the green of his irises look greener, and the dark circles under them are nearly as pronounced as Tooru’s.  A dull sheen of dried sweat coats the arcs of his cheekbones and jaw, interrupted by two-day old scruff on his chin. Judging by his smell, he didn’t shower last night._

_The key feels heavy in his hand. He holds it out to Iwaizumi on the flat palm, an impersonal silver platter_ _. “I’d like to return this.”_

_Iwaizumi glances down at the key, and then up at him. “Uh…why?”_

_“I’ll be moving soon, for grad school.” He reads the words off a teleprompter in his head. It comes off as mechanical and impersonal. “I’ll be extremely busy, and likely won’t have time to visit anymore. I wouldn’t want to risk losing this while I’m working. Someone could even steal it. The risks outweigh the benefits…is what I’m saying.”_

_Iwaizumi stiffens, eyebrows knitting together, forming a deep valley on his forehead. “If this is about the party last ni_ _—_ _”_

“No.” _Tooru doesn’t mean for the words to come out so forcefully. The entire hallway seems even quieter after he closes his mouth. “...it’s_ _—_ _t’s not, no.”_

_Iwaizumi’s jaw tightens. He runs down his face, pulling at his cheeks, as if he were expecting this. “You’re sure?”_

No, because this is definitely about last night, and because I fell in love with you, but I’m not good enough for you, I’ll never be good enough for you, and it will be easier on you if I end our friendship now.

_Tooru bites his lip. He offers his hand toward Iwaizumi again. “Just take the key, please.”_

_The crease between Iwaizumi’s brows deepens. The bags under his eyes seem to sag. But he reaches out and takes the key. His fist hangs by his side, as if the key weighed just as much for him as it did for Tooru._

_He opens the door wider, and steps to the side. “...okay. So…do you, uh, want to come in?”_

_“I can’t. I have a test to study for.”_

_“Tooru. We finished finals yesterday.”_

Fuck. _Tooru turns around and waves. “Bye~”_

_“See you later?” Iwaizumi calls after him._

_“Yeah…see you later.”_

_There is no grand split. Their friendship doesn’t end with angry fireworks and explosive fights. It burns out like a campfire left unattended, brilliant flames falling flat, flickering softer until only embers were left._

_Returning the key was the beginning of the end. Tooru doesn’t text Iwaizumi back, he doesn’t make plans to hang out with Iwaizumi’s friends, he doesn’t visit his apartment. They still run into each other, at friend’s parties, or the campus library, or their favorite coffee shop, but when he does see Iwaizumi, he avoids talking to him. Iwaizumi doesn’t seek him out either. Even though Tooru is the one widening the distance between them, he’s angry that Iwaizumi isn’t doing anything to fill the gap. Does that mean Iwaizumi had never cared about him at all? Tooru knows it isn’t true, but it doesn’t stop feelings of doubt from raging on his conscience, thinking that maybe he and Iwaizumi were never that close after all._

_Falling apart is easier than Tooru would have ever dreamed. Within a month, they hardly see each other. Within a year, they hadn’t spoken. Five years pass in no time at all._

 

 

**_27 years old; Present_ **

The dome is twenty meters tall and stark white. It rests on top of the mountain like a castle on a hill, arching upwards toward the sky. All around him, a sea of green stretches for miles, like the lush fields of Naboo. A lazy wind ruffles his hair, the crisp winter breeze filling his lungs with the raw scent of nature. Standing on top of the hill, the dome in front of him and the world stretched out below, Tooru feels empowered.

He snaps a picture of the view and sends it to Suga.

 **To refreshing-kun:**  
_Bet you wish you could work in a place like this_

He doesn’t have to wait long for a response.

 **From refreshing-kun:**  
_And drive an hour to get there every day? no thanks_

Tooru snickers.

 **To refreshing-kun:**  
_Its a SCENIC DRIVE_  
_Its part of the charm~_

It’s true—the view is nice. He’ll enjoy it while he can, since the green will be pounded out by a snowy blanket within a month. Tooru dreads the upcoming winter; he never liked the cold, and now he’d have to spend it here, in this dreary little town, instead of his warm Tokyo apartment.  

Now an associate professor at Todai, Tooru had been been relocated here, to Harusei, to work at the Harusei Observatory. He had moved into his new apartment yesterday. It was on the edges of the town, the nearest he could find to the observatory. Harusei nestled at the bottom of the mountain where the observatory was located, and the drive up the mountain was an hour long. But the apartment, though not perfectly roomy, was the largest one he’d ever owned before, now that he could actually afford it. Most importantly, it had a balcony with a perfect view of the town and a perfect view of the sky. Tooru had sat there yesterday evening, watching the sun cast a shadow on the city as it went to sleep. He could even see the stars; at least, a hell of a lot better than he could see them in Tokyo.

Tooru hates it. He’s angry at his supervisor for moving him to this town of nobodies. He needed the best resources Japan had to offer, not some random ass telescope in the middle of nowhere. He would never tell anyone, but the small city sprawled before him made him feel small. And alone. At least in Tokyo, he knew people. Out here, surrounded by the vastness of nature, taking refuge in a tower high above the town, people feel further away than ever.

He can’t let that bother him. He hasn’t let it bother him before, and he won’t let it bother him now. Not when he’s come so far.

Tooru turns his back to the observatory and lifts his phone above him. He throws up a peace sign and snaps a selfie. He looks down at it for a moment, scrutinizing his hair and face. Dissatisfied, he takes another. And another. There—his hair looks good in this one.

_Can’t wait to stargaze here! Love my job! #newbeginnings #haruseiobservatory #naoj #seti_

“Taking selfies already? I thought you’d at least say ‘Hi’ first.”

Tooru looks up to see a head of messy black hair and golden cat eyes. “Oh. It’s you,” he says.

Kuroo Tetsurou. They went to Todai together. Kuroo was a Biophysics and Biochem major, but he developed a fascination with space and turned his skills to the sky. They had a few classes together, and the same supervisor in grad school. Tooru hasn’t seen him in months, and it’s nice to see a familiar face out here in the middle of nowhere. But Kuroo doesn’t need to know that.

Kuroo stretches out his arms, grinning wide. “Glad to see you too, Oikawa.”

Tooru slips under his arm before he can give him a hug. “Afraid I can’t say the same,” he teases, walking toward the observatory.

“Not even if I give you a peek at my most recent data on K2-3d?”

Tooru pauses and turns back around, lips curving into an endearing smile. “Tetsu-chan! It’s been too long, how are you?”

After suffering through one of Kuroo’s hugs, they walk back to the dome together. “How’s work coming?” Tooru asks him.

Kuroo shrugs. “You know. Drowning in data, hoping technology improves so that I can do my job better.”

Kuroo measures the atmospheric content of exoplanets. Tooru didn’t understand how he had the patience for measuring the atmospheres of exoplanets… then again, Tooru had the patience for tracking the brightness of stars, so he shouldn’t be that shocked.

“Not nearly as exciting as your work, though.” Kuroo nudges him. “I heard about your paper from a couple of months ago. The star with the weird lightcurve. I hear they’re calling it ‘Tooru’s star.’”

Tooru grins. “I know.”

“They’re also calling it the alien megastructure star.” Kuroo says it with exactly the same dubious tone as his co-workers back at Todai.

Tooru masks his annoyance behind a wide smile. “I know,” he says with more confidence than he feels.

Kuroo stops walking. “...don’t tell me you agree with them. There’s gotta be some other explanation. Like… comets or something, right?”

Tooru rolls his eyes. He doesn’t want to have this conversation again. “Did you even _read_ my paper, Tetsu? _I’m_ the one who suggested it.”

Kuroo looks at him for a moment, eyes calculating, the same as when he’s analyzing the computer models of his most promising planets. His eyes suddenly widen in realization. “Ah. That explains why you’re here.”

Tooru turns around and opens the door to the dome. “Where’s the lab?” he asks.

Kuroo sighs, but lets the change of subject slide. That’s what Tooru likes best about Kuroo. He shows concern, but never pushes.

The inside of the dome is exactly as Tooru expected. The high, curved ceiling stretches over far above his head. In the middle, an enormous sky blue telescope sits on a raised dais above them, a huge cylinder pointed towards the sky. A 188 centimeter reflector telescope, queen among the telescopes hosted at Harusei. There are two other telescopes here, but they’re much smaller, practically useless to Tooru. This is the one he plans to commandeer. Only because he has no other choice. He’d prefer a much stronger telescope _—_ but his supervisor made sure he didn’t get that.

“She’s beautiful,” Tooru says, despite himself. He’s always had a soft spot for telescopes, ever since Iwaizumi gave him one for fifteenth birthday. That one’s buried underneath his bed, along with the memories that came along with it.

The telescope in front of him is ten times larger than the one Iwaizumi gave him, a thousand times more powerful. If fifteen-year-old Tooru had the opportunity to use her, he would have cried with delight. Twenty-seven-year-old Tooru knows better. He almost feels guilty for being disappointed in her. Almost.

Kuroo laughs. “Yeah, she’s no TMT, but she gets the job done.”

She may not be the most powerful, but this is what Tooru was given to work with. In his head, Tooru’s already thinking about all the things he can do with her.

Kuroo tugs his arm. “C’mon. Let’s get you to your lab.”

They walk across the floor, and Kuroo opens a door to a carpeted hallway.

“Who else is stationed here?” Tooru asks.

“Right now? Just us and the grad students.”

Tooru holds back a sigh of relief. He can deal with Kuroo and a couple of grad students. The last thing he needs is more people doubting him and interfering with his work. And he’ll have more telescope time.

“That’s my lab,” Kuroo says, pointing to the first door on the right. It’s open, revealing a messy workspace stuffed with computer monitors and equipment. Someone sits at one of the desks, hunched over a laptop, white headphones covering his ears.

“That’s Tsukishima. He’s helping me with modeling. He’s a computer engineer.”

He certainly looks the part. Thick glasses, a sallow expression, a dead-eyed stare.

Kuroo walks up to him and taps him on the shoulder. “Tsukki, say hi to Oikawa-sensei.”

Tsukki lets out a long sigh, and takes of his headphones. “Hi to Oikawa-sensei.”

Tooru looks to Kuroo, eyebrow raised. Kuroo shrugs. _Looks like you knitted a snarky one, Tetsu._ “And you must be Tsukishima,” Tooru says.

Tsukki glances up at him. “Must I be?”

Tooru smirks. “No. I can call you Tsukki-chan, if you’d prefer that.”

Tsukishima curls his lip.

“Tsukki-chan it is,” Tooru says. “Rather fitting for an astronomer, isn’t it, Kuroo?”

Kuroo nods seriously. “Absolutely.”

“I’m a computer scientist,” Tsukishima protests weakly.

“You’re working in an observatory. Therefore, astronomer.”

Tsukishima gives him one more look, probably trying to scare him off with that glare, but Tooru keeps smiling. He’s good at that. Tsukishima turns back to his desk and pulls his headphones back on.

Kuroo shrugs. They leave him be, walking back down the hallway.

“He seems nice,” Tooru says.

Kuroo snorts. “What he lacks in his personality, he makes up for in his skills. Excellent GPA, insightful senior thesis, but apparently hard to get along with. Just like you, Tooru.”

Tooru shoves Kuroo’s shoulder. “Mean~!”

They walk up to an open door. “This is you,” Kuroo gestures. He gives Tooru a pat on the shoulder and his signature smirk. “I’ll let you get your stuff in order.” With that final thought, he leaves Tooru standing in front of the door.

Tooru takes a deep breath, then walks into the lab _—_ _his_ lab, he reminds himself _—_ chin held high.

It’s a large room with a blue carpet. There are three giant desks, one to the right, one to the left, and one immediately before him, all facing the front. The desks on the sides already have stacks of equipment on them, as well as people sitting behind them.

One he recognizes immediately _—_ a graduate student he once TA’d for back in the day, Kindaichi Yuutarou. Majored in Earth and Planetary Physics. Could be a bit dense sometimes, but made quick and precise calculations and was loyal to a fault.

The other is less familiar, with dark hair framing a bored looking face. Tooru’s only met with him twice before: Kunimi Akira. Majored in Aeronautics and Astronautics. Lazy when it came to busy work, but delivered when it mattered most.

Tooru sighs. “Why do I never get any cute lady assistants?” he jokes.

“Because sexism is rampant in STEM fields and men with superiority complexes harass and discriminate women to unreasonable degrees,” Kunimi says without looking up.

Kindaichi nods. “That’s fair.”

Tooru and Kunimi give him a look. Kindaichi’s eyes widen and he starts waving his hands. “I mean _—_ it’s not fair! Which is the point you were trying to make...and I was agreeing with…”

Suddenly Kindaichi does a double take, and leaps out of his chair and bows. “O-oikawa-senpai! It’s an honor to be working with you.”

“Kindaichi. Lovely to see you again.” Tooru turns to the other man. “You too, Kunimi.”

He nods.  

Tooru looks between them. They’re an odd pair, but his intuition tells him they’ll work well together. “I hope you two can get along _—_ you’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

Kindaichi wanders over to Kunimi’s desk and leans on the edge. “Actually, we already know each other,” he says.

“Unfortunately,” Kunimi adds. Kindaichi elbows him.

Tooru raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“We’ve known each other since high school.”

Tooru freezes. He forces himself to smile. “Oh. Childhood friends. How...sweet.”

Tendrils of envy dance around in his gut. He hates that they’re there, but he can’t deny this feeling. _That could have been me and Iwaizumi._

Tooru changes the subject before too many memories are dredged up. “Let’s finish setting up. What have you brought with you?”

They spend the next few hours setting up equipment, getting the lab organized. Tooru hates this part, he wants to put this facility to use _now,_ but it had to be done. He enlists Kindaichi’s help to make a couple of trips between his car the lab, bringing boxes of his work stuff into the lab. The computers they used for modeling, a few shelves of books, a screen for showing the observations that are being run. 

Finally, there’s only one box left. The fun box.

Tooru reaches instead of pulls out an armful of scrolls, spreading them across his desk.

“That’s...a lot of posters,” Kindaichi says.

“You should be grateful,” Tooru says. “This place is so boring and dreary. This will bring _life_ to our lab. It’ll have _character_.”

Tooru steps back to take a look at his wall, twiddling his hands together as he surveys how much space he has to work with. He starts with his esteemed Space Ace poster, a purple, black, white, and grey flag with a parody of the NASA logo on it, reading SPACE ACE instead. It was a gift from Suga, who sent it to him when he learned Tooru was a giant astronomy nerd. He sticks it right above his chair.

Next is his _Contact_ poster, which goes right next to it. He continues putting up his other movie posters above it, _2001: A Space Odyssey_ and _Star Wars_ and _Cowboy Bebop_ and _E.T._ Then, his photoprints: clear shots of Mars and Jupiter, bursts of color from spiral galaxies and supernovas, a couple of artist’s renditions of faraway planets, one of a Dyson sphere absorbing a star’s light. Finally, he moves on to his reality-bound infographics about gravitational waves and the history of astronomy and Doppler spectroscopy and the Drake Equation.  

“Oikawa-san. Do you really work for SETI?” Kunimi asks.

Tooru pauses midway through pining up his Arecibo Message poster. He was expecting this question, but he doesn’t appreciate Kunimi’s skeptical tone. He drives a tack through the bottom of the poster. “Why do you think I’m here?” he asks.

“Uh...because the university gains prestige with every discovery you make?” Kindaichi says.

Another tack in the poster. “Wrong.”

“Because they don’t want to give a SETI nutjob access to a better telescope,” Kunimi says.

Tooru turns around and points his finger at him. “Bingo.”

Kindaichi looks between them. “I don’t get it.”

Tooru stabs a final tack in the Arecibo poster. It shows the contents of the message Carl Sagan and Frank Drake crafted for extraterrestrials in 1974. Sent in binary from the Arecibo radio telescope, it was crafted to commemorate the telescope’s remodeling and show the possibilities of technology. It’s one of Tooru’s favorite posters because it shows the dauntlessness of the men and women behind it.    

Tooru steps down from his chair and grabs another poster. “My discovery was _profound_ . We’ve never seen transits like this from any other star before. KIC 720610 deserves the attention of the most powerful telescope in existence _—_ or at least, the most powerful telescope we have access to. And that telescope is in Mauna Kea, not Harusei.”

Tooru unfurls the poster; this is a recent one of all the potentially habitable exoplanets that have been identified so far. He finds a spot for it on the wall and grabs a few tacks. “The other guys in the department _—_ they don’t like us SETI researchers. They think we give a bad name to astrophysics.” He hops up on his chair and sticks a pin the corner. “They think we’re a waste of money, because they think we don’t have anything to show for our hard work. They think that we’ll cry ‘alien’ and the world will laugh at them, too.”

When Tooru first joined the SETI team in grad school, he wore his label proudly. He was one of three Japanese scientists working to answer the greatest question posed to humankind. He thought all the other students would be jealous of him; instead, they gave him the cold shoulder. He desperately tried to earn back their favor by playing down the SETI card, but the damage to his reputation was done. It was only after he made his discovery that they starting talking to him. But by then, Tooru realized he didn’t need their favor. He basically found his discovery on his own, he didn’t need their support. He had always planned to achieve this alone anyways.

More than a thousand exoplanets have been identified in the past year alone, almost a dozen of them potential habitable. They had no idea what was out there.

He finishes pinning the exoplanet poster and steps down from his chair. “The truth is they’re afraid of us,” Tooru continues. “They’re afraid of what we might find. They’re afraid of not being able to comprehend what we find. But I’m not afraid. Are you?”

They both shake their heads.

“Good. Because they’re going to give you shit, and you’re going to have to take it. You need to be prepared for that.”

Tooru walks to the middle of the lab and looks back at the wall of posters behind his desk. Satisfied with his decoration, he pulls out his phone. “Now, get out my picture.”

Kindaichi scrambles back to his desk. “Sorry Oikawa-senpai!”

“Kindaichi,” he says, waiting for Kunimi to take his sweet time walking out of the frame, “it’s Oikawa- _sensei_ now.”

“Yes, Oikawa-sensei!”

Tooru focuses the camera on his wall of posters, stepping back far enough to capture them all. There _—_ now that was a great picture.

_New work station all set up! #desklife #space #haruseiobservatory #naoj #seti_

After Tooru makes his post, he decides he’s had enough for today. He needs to go back home and pour over the papers and data collections he left there, and determine what path to take to lead them to where they needed to be.  

With a satisfied nod and a patronizing wave, he leaves his office behind and heads back to his new home.

The drive home is tedious. It’s boring. Not to mention, he’s not exactly the best driver; after exclusively using public transportation the past few years, he’s a bit rusty. Tooru can’t believe he’s going to have to make this drive every damn day.

He puts in his _Star Wars: A New Hope_ CD to try and lighten the mood. Even the Cantina Song does little to cheer him up.

When he gets home, the sun is still out, shining brightly over the mountains he just came down from. He sheds his work clothes, throws on sweatpants and a tank, and heads out for a jog. The giant stack of papers overflowing on his new table could wait until later. He works best in the early hours of the morning, anyway. Right now, he needs to get his muscles moving.

He jogs into town, picking directions randomly. He loses himself to the side streets and his thoughts.

He’s really doing this. He’s still having trouble believing he’s technically a professor now, let alone that he’s free to do his own research. Relatively free, thanks to his supervisor. He’s poured all his efforts into getting here, but now that he’s here, he doesn’t know what happens next. What will he find from studying KIC 720610? Will the right tools and the right team lead to the discovery he’s always hoped to make? Or is there nothing there at all? Is he just chasing a dead end? He thinks back to when he was younger, when he first saw _Contact_ and learned about SETI. Tooru knows better than to expect those events to play out, even though he still secretly hopes to be Dr. Arroway.

Yet, even though he’s closer to his goal than ever before, the possibility of finding alien life seems smaller than ever. The tools he has _—_ the tools anyone is capable of having _—_ will never be enough. It was like trying to find a diamond buried in a beach with only a teaspoon to help him dig. He does have a lead, but it could easily be nothing. That’s what most of the scientific community thought, anyway. More than anything, Tooru fears that they’ll be right. Tooru still cares tremendously about his reputation, but he’s always only had himself to blame for his mistakes. Now he has to manage two graduate students. He can’t disappoint them. He can’t fuck up their futures by his own devices. He has to have something to show for all this _—_

A twinkle in a store window catches his eye. He slows to down and looks back over his shoulder, and slowly backs up, coming to a stop in front of a tattoo shop.

There, in the window, is the universe. A tattoo of space decorating the entirety of someone’s back, from the bottom of their neck down to their waistline. A vibrant spread of dark blues and soft pinks and deep reds, swirls of purple and glares of white. Swirls of galaxies pepper a scape of stars, nebulas and planets and a spaceship drifting among the sea of colors.

It’s gorgeous. Tooru swears it must be a photograph, not a tattoo. He’s seen artist’s renditions before _—_ hell, he has plenty of them in his office _—_ and though they were amazing, he’s never seen anything quite like this.

Intrigued, he steps inside the shop. A bell tinkles above his head, and immediately, he’s hit with a burst of cold. Somehow, the inside of the shop is colder than the nighttime autumn breeze.

Rubbing warmth into his arms, Tooru looks around. Two workstations, surrounded by myriad sketches, sit behind deserted the front counter. While he waits for someone to step out, his eyes meandering the samples of work covering the walls and ceiling. There’s another galaxy print, a smaller one on someone’s arm _—_ and there’s another _—_

A man steps out from behind the back, and Tooru jerks his gaze away from the art.

“Hey, how can I help _—_ ”

Tooru freezes.

Hedgehog hair. Clear green eyes. A crease as deep as a valley between his brows.

“Iwa-chan?”


	2. Lightcurve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fated reunion, written in the stars.

####  **ii. Lightcurve**

“The light curve is a graph the brightness of the star over time, and is the measurement Kepler makes to discover exoplanets. The dip in light that happens when the planet passes in front of the star is called the "transit." Transits give information about the planet's size and orbit.”  
\- [ Transist Light Curve Tutorial ](https://www.cfa.harvard.edu/~avanderb/tutorial/tutorial.html)

* * *

 

**_15 years old_ **

_Scraps of purple paper fall to the ground as Tooru tears open his gift. Normally Tooru takes the time to unwrap his gifts carefully, peeling off tape and folding back edges, but he knew what this was the moment he saw the shape of the box and he can’t hold back his excitement._

_He rips off the last bit of paper. It’s exactly what he expects: a brand new telescope._

_“Iwa-chan. You didn’t.”_

_His best friend, who sits in the chair next to him, just gives him a smile and a shrug._

_The rest of Tooru’s family, gathered around the table to watch him open presents for his birthday celebration,_ ooh’s _and_ ahh’s _at Iwaizumi’s gift. A picture of the 50 nm refractor telescope gleams on the side of the long cardboard box. To Tooru, the long, white telescope tube looks as elegant as a swan’s neck._

_Iwaizumi preens at the praise, smiling proudly at the Oikawa’s. Tooru scoops him into a hug. As much as Iwaizumi made fun of Tooru for his obsession with space, he always entertained his interest. “Thank you thank you thank you!”_

_“Aw, how cute,” his sister praises, snapping a picture of them._

_“Ack_ _—_ _get off me, Idiotkawa_ _—_ _”_

_Tooru squeezes him one last time before letting Iwaizumi break away. Iwaizumi smooths down his hair and straightens his shirt. “You’re welcome,” he mumbles._

_“You actually got it right this year,” Tooru says. “I’m surprised, Iwa-chan! Even though you didn’t grow taller, looks like you grew a few more brain cells!”_

_“Hey_ _—_ _”_

_“Moooooom, can Iwa-chan and I go set up the telescope now?”_

_“Maybe later, Tooru, we still have guests over.”_

_Tooru sighs. “Ugh. Fine.”_

_Through the next few hours of smiling and nodding at adults while pretending he actually cares what they say, his thoughts never leave the telescope sitting in the corner._

_The moment the last guest leaves, Tooru snatches Iwaizumi’s hand and makes him carry the telescope up to their balcony. Iwaizumi helps him set it up, and together, they figure out how to spy on the stars._

_“Iwa-chan, look, it’s the Andromeda Galaxy!” Tooru shoves Iwaizumi up against the telescope, waiting in anticipation for him to look through the eyepiece._

_“Chill out, I’m looking, I’m looking.” Tooru watches Iwaizumi’s brows come together, and a crease forms between them. White light from the half moon highlights his face in silver, an ethereal contour Tooru could only dream of achieving._

_Tooru still teased Iwaizumi for being short, but the truth was Iwaizumi was maturing far faster than Tooru expected. Though his voice still cracked and acne dotted his face and back, his jaw became sharper and hairier and he bulked up more every day. He was starting to look like a man, and it was making Tooru feel funny things._

_It’s what he felt for his first girlfriend, but different, too. Deeper. It’s more like…Kirk and Spock. That kind of deep-rooted, platonic friendship that had nothing on romantic relationships. Right?_

_Iwaizumi turns back to him, lips curved in a smile. “Usually I’d say all this space stuff is lame, but this is actually pretty cool.”_

_Tooru blushes, and looks away, the redness of his cheeks swallowed up by the darkness of the night. “Mean, Iwa-chan…”_

_“What d’you_ _—_ _how on Earth was that mean?”_

_“You said you’d usually say it’s lame!_

_“Oh my god, Tooru, you’re impossible.”_

 

“To _—_ Oikawa?”

Oikawa is transported five years into the past. This is just another day in his life, he’s just grabbing Iwaizumi so they can go back to his apartment and watch cheesy sci-fi movies together. He feels like he could pick up the conversation right where they left off, as natural as ever. He feels like he’s come home.

But tiny details interrupt his perfect image of the past: Iwaizumi’s facial hair, the slight loss of muscle definition, the tattoo covering his arm and trailing under the neckline of his tank top, the deepened crease between his brows. That Iwaizumi had called him “Oikawa,” not “Tooru.”

Here is the man he fell in love with. Here is he friend he abandoned.

The following wave of emotions doesn’t come crashing down. It wells up gently like the tide, climbing higher and higher until the water reaches his throat and he starts to drown.

Iwaizumi’s still staring at him, probably in as much shock as he is.

Oikawa clears his throat. “Long time, no see…” he croaks.

The words echo in the empty space, sticking around like sugar that refuses to dissolve in cold tea.  

“That’s it?” Iwaizumi scoffs, eyes wide with disbelief, accusation flying at him like a comet hurtling towards a star. “Five years, and all you have to say to me is ‘Long time no see?’”

Tooru should leave. He should really just leave and never show his face in town again and pretend this never happened.

“I can’t believe you, Shittykawa.”

Before Tooru can protest, Iwaizumi marches up to him and pulls him into a hug.

For a moment, with Iwaizumi’s arms around him, he feels like everything can go back to normal, that he and Iwaizumi can snap right back into being best friends like nothing ever happened. Nevermind that hugging Iwaizumi doesn’t feel like it used to. Nevermind his beard scratches Tooru’s neck, or that his body has changed, just like his personality has no doubt changed, too.

Iwaizumi lets go of him at takes a step back, and the tension returns. Silences builds up between them, bubbling over like boiling water, angry bubbles full of empty space. Neither of them know what to say now. What is there to say, after five years of silence?

“So, uh… what are you doing here?” Iwaizumi asks.  

Oikawa points behind him. “I saw the galaxy tattoo. It’s… nice.”

“Oh. That was mine, so thanks, I guess.” Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck. “I meant more like… what are you doing in Harusei?”

“Oh.” Duh. Obviously. Tooru scolds himself for saying the wrong thing. “Research. At the observatory.”

“On Tooru’s star?” Iwaizumi asks with a bit of a teasing tone.

“You know about that?”

“Saw some stuff about it on the news,” Iwaizumi said, shrugging. “It’s kind of a big deal, isn’t it?”

To anyone else, he would brag about that yes, it’s a really big deal, but instead Tooru just finds himself saying, “Yeah.”

Talking to Iwaizumi is strange. They both tiptoe around conversation, talking at each other rather than with each other. They had dived right into conversation only to find they forgot how to swim. Now Tooru has no choice but to flail around in the water, babbling on and on and hoping Iwaizumi doesn’t realize they’re both drowning.

Iwaizumi clears his throat and shuffles his feet. “Then, uh, why’re you doing research here?”

“Oh my god,” Tooru says, latching onto something he can talk about. “You don’t even know what you’ve just asked. Let me tell you, the administrators at Todai are such _assholes…_ ”

Tooru rants about the politics in his department, in the astrobiology community, and in SETI. Throughout it, Iwaizumi listens as attentively as he always has, leaning up against the front counter as he nods along. It’s almost overwhelming. Tooru looks at a spot just above Iwaizumi’s head so he doesn’t have to stare directly at him.

“You did it,” Iwaizumi says eventually. “I knew you would.”

Tooru can’t help but smile. “Aw, Iwa-chan believes in me.”

“You’re just too stubborn to let anything get in your way,” Iwaizumi teases.  

Tooru gasps. “I’m not _stubborn_.”

“You are the most stubborn person I know,” Iwaizumi asserts. Tooru is taken aback by the seriousness in his tone. “Stubborn enough to disappear for five years…”

 _Shit_. Tooru knew Iwaizumi would bring this up, he knew it, but he can’t talk about it. Not right now. He didn’t want to open an old wound when he finally had a chance to heal.

“So how’d you end up here?” Tooru asks, determined to change the subject. “You majored in biology.”

Iwaizumi stares at him for a good moment. Tooru forces himself to stare back. He can feel their conversation start to sink again, and prays that Iwaizumi takes the bait. _Please move on, please move on._

Finally, Iwaizumi relents. “Yeah, I was pre-med.”

The tension in the atmosphere lifts, if only slightly, allowing them to float onward. Tooru knows that this isn’t the end of this talk, and that Iwaizumi is only shelving this conversation for another day. But he’s grateful Iwaizumi isn’t pushing it now, when they’re finally face to face again. Maybe Iwaizumi’s afraid to talk about it, too. Dredging up old feelings and past mistakes so soon in their reunion...Tooru doesn’t want this to take a wrong turn. Who knows what five years of distance has done to them.

Iwaizumi picks at his fingernails. “I, uh, didn’t get into med school, though.”

“Oh. Sorry…” That must have been rough. Tooru remembers how much he dedicated into his studies, and how badly he wanted to be a doctor. Iwaizumi loved helping people. Knowing that he wasn’t there for Iwaizumi during that time gives him a stab of guilt. All the times Iwaizumi had been there for him, and Tooru didn’t even know what Iwaizumi had gone through.

“That was a long time ago, though. A lot’s changed since then,” Iwaizumi says. He opens his arms up and gestures around the shop, a fond smile on his face. “I found a new passion.”

“Tattoos,” Tooru says, glancing at the ink on Iwaizumi’s arms. Dark edges of ink outline his shoulders, teasing at some design on his back Tooru can’t see from his angle. Planets trail up his forearm; the only one he can see clearly is the bright ink of Saturn’s rings wrapping around the orange planet. Tooru wants to ask Iwaizumi about his other tattoos. He wants to reach out and take Iwaizumi’s arm and study the planets on his arm. His curls his hand and hugs it to his chest instead. 

“It’s not where I thought I’d end up… but I’m happy,” Iwaizumi says, running a hand up his arm.

A part of him is happy for his friend, and a part of him hurts, knowing that Iwaizumi’s happy without Tooru in his life. A part of him is angry with himself for pushing Iwaizumi away. _Who knows what could have happened if they had stayed together._

“You used to draw when we were younger,” Tooru recalls. “You were always better than me at art, and I’d get really jealous and ruin it.”

Iwaizumi laughs. The sound rings in the air. His voice is rougher than Tooru remembers it. Tooru realizes it’s the first time he’s heard Iwaizumi laugh in five years. “Yeah, you were a mean little shit.”

Tooru squawks. “Was not!”

“It’s okay, I forgive you.” Iwaizumi stands up. His hand twitches at his side; Tooru wonders if he was about to offer him his hand. “Wanna see what how I’ve improved?”

Tooru glances outside. It’s nearly dark now; only an orange band lights up the horizon, soft and warm like the rings of Saturn on Iwaizumi’s skin. He should leave. He has work tomorrow, and he needs to get up early to have enough time to drive up the long, godforsaken road to the observatory. He needs to get out of here and process everything that’s happened.

“Sure,” he says.

They spend the next few hours looking over all the tattoos and designs Iwaizumi created over the past few years. Iwaizumi pulls out his portfolio, a thick black binder filled with everything from sketches to clean designs and finished products. Tooru watches as his style evolved from simple patterns to intricate and realistic images.

While they flip through the book, Iwaizumi explains how after he got his rejection letter from med school, he came out here to visit his friend Saeko, the one who owned this tattoo parlor. He started helping her with sketches, and fell in love with tattoos when he got one of his own. She took him on as an apprentice, and eventually, he worked his way up to working at her shop.

“What about your tattoos?” Tooru asks. He’s been eyeing the design on his left shoulder _—_ were those dragons? _—_ and the curves on the tops of his shoulders.

“Um. Maybe another time,” Iwaizumi says. He points outside. It’s pitch black out; Tooru hadn’t even noticed. “It’s getting late.”

Tooru tries to read him, to figure out if Iwaizumi was actually concerned about the time, or he was just trying to get rid of him. But he comes up with nothing.

“I didn’t notice,” Tooru says.

Iwaizumi grins. “Neither did I.” He notes the crinkles around Iwaizumi’s eyes, the crow’s feet at the corners. They’re more pronounced than how Tooru remembers them. It’s kind of cute.

“I’ll drive you home,” Iwaizumi offers.

_It’ll only hurt more if you get in a car with him, Tooru._

“Okay,” he says.

The drive from Iwaizumi’s tattoo shop to Tooru’s apartment is seven minutes long. They chat the entire way there, Iwaizumi about crazy clients and Tooru about his new position at the observatory, his grad students and co-workers and Harusei.

They arrive in front of Tooru’s apartment. For a minute, they sit in the car in silence.

This whole experience is surreal. Tooru almost expects that when he steps out of this car, he’ll wake up from a dream.

“Hey. I’ll see you again, right?” Iwaizumi asks.

Tooru nods. “Yeah.”

“You won’t run away this time?”

In the past few hours, memories and emotions have poured into him, as slow and steady as a teakettle filling a cup with boiling water. He can’t even fathom what he’s feeling, surprise and warmth and pain and joy blend together into a feelings smoothie set on the highest setting. At the same time he feels numb, like those emotions aren’t his, like he’s watching a star explode a thousand light years away through the wide lens of a telescope.

It’s terrifying. But this twist of fate has brought him together with Iwaizumi again, and Tooru isn’t going to make the same mistake again.

“No,” he says firmly.

“Promise?”

Tooru reaches over and takes Iwaizumi’s hand, holding it tight. For the first time that night, Tooru looks him in the eye. “I promise.”

Tooru flops into bed, the business card Iwaizumi gave him clenched so firmly in his hand that it bends in half. He puts Iwaizumi’s new number and email into his phone, shoves his glasses on, then proceeds to stalk him on social media. He spends the rest of the night going through all his posts and pictures. The past five years unravel backwards, dozens of pictures of tattoos falling away to pictures of Iwaizumi and Saeko and pictures of Harusei, to pictures of Iwaizumi from college.

Eventually he comes across one with himself in it. Iwaizumi had Tooru in a headlock, while Tooru puffed out his cheeks in anger. He remembers when they took this picture _—_ it was a week before the party. A couple of friends and them had been studying for finals in Iwaizumi’s apartment, and Tooru had taken a sip out of Iwaizumi’s tea. Hanamaki took the picture while they weren’t looking, and Iwaizumi insisted on posting despite Tooru’s protests.

Tooru wants to make a list of all the things that make up Iwaizumi Hajime. There would be two columns: one for things that stayed the same, one for things that changed. Under the first, his laugh, his smile, the crease between his brows, the way he talks, his kindness. Under the other, his beard, his passion, his tattoos, the way he says Tooru’s name. He would catalogue each and every detail and see which side came out on top. Then he would know if he truly knew this Iwaizumi or not.

 

The next morning, Tooru sits in his office, exhausted from his drive up the mountain at 5 A.M. after a night of restless sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about Iwaizumi. Out of all the obstacles Harusei had in store for him, this was not one that Tooru expected.

He tries to distract himself with work. Many colleagues had told him that he had a talent of losing himself in the data.

On his laptop, Tooru pulls up a segment of KIC 720610’s lightcurve, the one from 2014. A graph of a purple line that stretched straight across the middle of the grid that curved down every so often appears on screen. They look like little carrots planted in a field at random intervals.

Tooru’s specialization is identifying exoplanets by their transits: when they passed in front of their sun, the star’s brightness would dim a little. From telescope data, he would create graph, called a lightcurve, that tracked the brightness of a star. If something _—_ like a planet _—_ passed in front of a star, the brightness would dim, causing dips in the graph. Usually, dips were consistent, following normal orbital patterns.

KIC 720610’s lightcurve was nothing like this. The lightcurve’s dips were highly inconsistent, which would normally indicate multiple planets orbiting the star, but each dip was consistent. Too consistent. Each one was exactly the same length of time, at a precise 2% dip. How likely was it that there were a dozen planets of exactly the same size at exactly the same distances surrounding this star?

The Kepler Telescope had recovered this data as part of its K2 mission. When reviewing this data as part of one of his projects, Tooru discovered six months worth of data unlike any other lightcurve Tooru had ever seen before, coming from this star.

These inconsistent dips occurred for as long as Kepler’s field of view was trained on the M13, for the next six months. And then Kepler’s field of view was changed, putting an end to the data. Which was extremely frustrating. The data wasn’t sufficient to make any significant conclusions _—_ which Tooru emphasized in the paper he wrote a few months back. But the findings were strange enough to warrant more study. Strange enough to wonder if it wasn’t a natural occurrence. Hell, the star was only 20 light years away. They were practically next door neighbors.

Tooru wasn’t joking when he suggested in his paper that this could be the mark of an alien civilization. He had gone over the various other explanations before offering this suggestion _—_ atypical planetary orbits, planetary collisions, comets, space debris _—_ yet none of those fit. The most reasonable explanation was that an intelligent being was controlling the dimmings. Perhaps it could be the theorized Dyson sphere that sucked energy from KIC 720610, or even just spaceships passing in front of the star.

He had to beg Todai’s administration to give him telescope time after his paper was published. They were ashamed one of their staff dare suggested aliens be the explanation, but they hadn’t examined the data like he had, they hadn’t gone through every possibility. Reluctantly, they had sent him here, to Harusei, in the middle of nowhere.

At least he would get his telescope time. And his data. If he could make sense of the ending of Neon Genesis Evangelion, he could make sense of that data. Then he would prove those idiots wrong. He would prove that they were just a bunch of unimaginative, pretentious fools. That they were just _afraid_.

Tooru’s not afraid. He would welcome the discovery of alien life. Isn’t that what he’s been looking for his whole life? Proof that they’re not alone?

Ironic how alone he is while searching for proof that he’s not. Tooru’s always been different, no matter how hard he’s tried to fit in. And when he stopped trying to fit in, and chose to embrace his identity, he felt even lonelier. Isolated in his grad program, then banished out here to this town in the middle.

But it’s different now, isn’t it? He has Iwaizumi back, a comforting spark of familiarity in this overwhelming new environment. Things can go back to like how they were before. He’ll be Iwaizumi’s best friend again, and they can do everything together, and they can watch movies on Saturday nights and go to each other when they have problems. It can all go back to how it used to be.

The thought feels Tooru with unbridled joy and overflowing terror. Because, if things were the same, and if it goes the way it did before _—_

No. Tooru won’t let it get to that point this time. He’s going to regain Iwaizumi’s friendship, nothing more.

 

His phone buzzes. Tooru glances at the clock. He’d already been here for an hour, just staring at the graphs. _Shit._

 **From refreshing-kun**  
_Hows the transition going?_  
_Tokyo to harusei is a big switch_

Tooru grabs his phone and heads down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. He pushes the door at the top open and a splash of sunlight shines on him. Tooru squints his eyes against the brightness and steps out onto the balcony.

Suga was one of the few people who knew the whole story behind Oikawa’s sudden split with Iwaizumi. Actually, he was probably the only one.

 **To refreshing-kun**  
_Everything was fine until last night_  
_Guess who I ran into?_

 **From refreshing-kun**  
_who?_

 **To refreshing-kun**  
_BARA ARMS_

 **From refreshing-kun**  
_Wait WHAT_

 **To refreshing-kun**  
_Only his arms arent as bara any more_

 **From refreshing-kun**  
_THE GUY FROM COLLEGE_  
_YOUR CHILDHOOD FRIEND_

 **To refreshing-kun**  
_Still pretty bara tho_  
_YA HE WORKS HERE AS A TATTOO ARTIST NOW_

Instead of a reply from Suga, he gets a call.

“I need details. Tell me everything,” Suga says the moment he picks up the phone.

Tooru explains how his jog turned into a few hours of conversation with Iwaizumi and a ride home. “It was good, I thought it would be weird but we just started talking and everything was, it was like it was before.”

Okay, that wasn’t exactly the truth. Maybe the transcript of his conversation with Iwaizumi would read as normal, but Tooru can’t forget how he struggled to hold a conversation with someone who used to read him like a book.

But Tooru chooses to believe it went better than it did. It's easier to stay positive that way.

“I still can’t believe he was willing to talk to you,” Suga says.

“Mean! He was _dying_ to talk to me. Do you know the first thing he did when he saw me, Suga? Do you?”

“Hit you?”

“He _hugged_ me. Like nothing had ever happened.”

“You’re lucky he’s so forgiving.”

Tooru winces. “Yeah…”

“How are you feeling about it? Don’t freak out when I ask this, but...are you still in love with him?”

The water was already up to his neck again and Suga just _had_ to send another wave crashing down on him.

Tooru pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh my god, Suga _—_ ”

“What? You know I had to ask.”

“You really, really didn’t. It’s been five years.”

“So is that a yes…?”

Tooru bites his lip to keep from sighing. He’s definitely regretting picking up the phone now.

“It’s a no. Of course it’s a no.”

“Oh.”

“Look, I have to get back to work, I need to go.”

“Sorry for bringing it up _—_  ”

“Bye!”

Tooru ends the call and gives another dramatic sigh.

He hadn’t told Suga the truth. The truth is _—_ he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how to feel about Iwaizumi. His appearance was so unexpected, Tooru didn’t even how to process it. Tooru liked schedules and plans and lists so he always knew what to expect. In high school he always researched the teams they played against so there wouldn’t be any surprises. As long as he could prepare for it, Tooru was confident he could face anything.

How could he have been prepared for Iwaizumi? Even with all the time in the world, Tooru doesn’t know what he would have done differently yesterday. The script for a reunion between childhood friends was not one he was familiar with. Sure, he'd seen long lost lovers reunite in cheesy American romcoms - not that he and Iwaizumi were lovers, obviously! - but those situations weren't realistic. People change. Iwaizumi has changed. Tooru has changed.

(A part of him asks if this is really true. He likes to think he's changed, grown more knowledgable and independent, but maybe he's just the same selfish, obsessive person with a penchant for denying his true nature.) 

He doesn’t know how to go from here. But he knows how he wants it to go. Tooru used to scoff at those romcoms with the lovers who seemed to click immediately, even after years apart. Now he hopes for that to be his reality. Iwaizumi is a lifeline dangling in a sea of change, and Tooru is determined to hold on tight. He wants everything to go back to how it used to be. He wants to be friends with Iwaizumi again, best friends, just best friends. He wants Iwaizumi to be a part of his life, he wants to show him everything he’s done in his absence and everything he hopes to accomplish with him by his side. He wants to be close to someone again. 

A part of him knows it can’t ever be how it was before, but Tooru wants to rekindle the fire of their friendship anyway. If there are any embers he can save and ignite again, he'll keep the fire going, goddamit.

 

That evening, Tooru goes on another jog. He ends up in front of Iwaizumi’s shop. This time, it’s intentional. Before he left, he mapped out his path, finding the most direct route to the shop. He figures that, it their friendship was going to be the same as before, Tooru can drop by Iwaizumi any time. 

He’s here earlier than he was yesterday, so he can better see the storefront. “Cosmic Tattoos,” shines in neon purple kanji. The lights are still on, so Tooru lets himself inside.

The same cold rush of air greets him again as he steps through the doorway, slowly this time, so he doesn’t set off the bell.

A cold burst of air hits him as he tiptoes through the door and leans against the front counter. Iwaizumi’s at his station, his back to Tooru, working on a client.

They’re just getting their feet wet, dipping their toes back into the waters of friendship they used to be familiar with, but Tooru’s ready to dive in headfirst.

He struts up behind Iwaizumi and shouts, “Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi flinches and swivels, needle clutched in his hand.

When he sees Tooru, lets out an irritated sigh. The crease on his forehead deepens as sets the needle down and wipes his brow. “Fuck, Oikawa, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Yeah dude, not cool,” Iwaizumi’s client fumes. He glares at Tooru. Tooru glances at the man’s arm, where a half a skull waits to be finished. “This is _permanent ink_ he’s working with.”

“Ah… sorry,” he forces himself to say. _Stupid. Duh._ Tooru shouldn’t have surprised him while he was working.

But Iwaizumi shouldn’t have been surprised, right? Iwaizumi was never surprised by Tooru’s sudden appearances. Except yesterday, maybe.

Iwaizumi gives Tooru a strange look. Tooru tries to read him, but he can’t tell what Iwaizumi’s thinking. Iwaizumi used to be an open book, but now it's like he's written in another language, or a language Tooru forgot long ago.

Iwaizumi picks up his needle and turns back to his client. “What are you doing here?” Iwaizumi asks, his tone rough. He forms the bridge of the skull’s forehead into his client’s arm.

Tooru’s grin falters. Never had either of them questioned the other’s sudden appearance before. “Here to bother you, obviously,” he says weakly.

“Can you bother me when I’m not working?” Iwaizumi hisses.

In that moment, Tooru resents Iwaizumi. Yesterday they meshed together so easily, and Tooru can’t understand why he’s intent on opposing him now. _Why won’t Iwa-chan play along? Doesn’t he want our friendship back, too?_

“I just wanted to say hi...” he pouts.

Iwaizumi pauses. He swivels around his chair to face Tooru. The crease between his brows scrunches up. “Hi, Oikawa,” he says, tone harsh.

Tooru forces himself to smile. He gives a little wave as he exits the shop. “Bye, Iwa-chan~”

Tooru runs all the way home. He knows he’s going to regret it tomorrow when his legs will inevitably burn just from walking to his car, but right now, he needs to get out his frustration.

There are hardly any cars on the road at the time of night, so Tooru barrels down the streets undeterred. Wind whistles past his ears and his shorts flap against his thighs. His lungs begin to burn, but Tooru keeps running.

This was supposed to be their time to reunite. And Iwaizumi was ruining it.

Maybe he was just stressed from work. Maybe Tooru just came at a bad time.

Or maybe Tooru was wrong. Maybe Iwaizumi didn’t even want to be friends in the first place. That’s why he’d never reached out _—_ because he hadn’t cared enough for Tooru in the first place. If he didn’t then, then why would be now?

That’s right _—_ Tooru was alone. That isn't new. Tooru doesn't need anyone, he never had and he never will, his feelings for Iwaizumi be damned.


	3. KIC 720610

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return of a phenomenon, a bet, and an apology.

####  **iii. KIC 720610**

“This star, slightly brighter than the Sun and more than 1400 light-years away, has been the subject of scrutiny by NASA’s Kepler space telescope.  It has shown some surprising behavior that’s odd even by the generous standards of cosmic phenomena...But another, and obviously intriguing, possibility is that this star is home to a technologically sophisticated society that has constructed a phalanx of orbiting solar panels (a so-called Dyson swarm) that block light from the star.”  
\- on KIC 8462852 from SETI.org

* * *

 

**_18 years old_ **

_23 – 25. They were so close to winning, so fucking close. They hadn’t even made it to the final round. But being “so close” didn’t matter, because the end result was black and white_ _—_ _the other team won, and they lost._

_Tooru wants to lash out. He wants to throw his shoes and pound his locker and shout and cry. Instead he buries those feelings of anger and frustration under a layer of professionalism. He’s the captain; he has to be strong for his team._

_They line up while Coach tells them what they did wrong, what they did right, and why they should be proud._

_Bullshit. It’s all bullshit. They lost because they weren’t strong enough, they weren’t good enough, Tooru wasn’t good enough. A strong captain would have led their team to nationals_ _—_ _but Tooru’s not strong, is he? This final loss proves it. He isn’t fit to lead._

 _Yet he puts on a mask and pretends that he is as he talks to his team and congratulates them for making it this far. He tells them how grateful he is to have gotten to play with them this year, how proud he his of them, and it’s true_ _—_ _it’s all true. He tells them how he loves this team, how he loves playing with them. He doesn’t tell them how they deserved a stronger setter, a better captain._

_As they walk back to the changing room, only quiet sniffles and shuffling feet penetrate the silence. Tooru refuses to look any of them in the eye, knowing that if he does, his mask will crumble._

_The silence hangs over them on the bus ride home. He sits in the front row, Iwaizumi next to him. They’ve ridden home together after losses before, but this time is different. This was their last game._

_Tooru takes a deep breath. Only another half hour, and he can finally let go._

_That’s when he hears the sniffle from next to him._

_He’d noticed Iwaizumi crying earlier, but this round is worse. His face is red and sticky from residual sweat. Fat tears well up out of his eyes and run down his face in a steady stream. Snot drips from his nose and settles at the top of his lip._

_When he notices Tooru watching him, he wipes his nose and faces away from him._

_Tooru rests his hand on Iwaizumi’s thigh. “Hey. It’s okay.”_

_Iwaizumi smashes his face into Tooru’s shoulder, masking his cries on Tooru’s sleeve. He pats his back as Iwaizumi lets it out. Tooru can’t count the number of times Iwaizumi has been the shoulder for him to cry on. As much as he wants to break down, too, he has to be strong and hold it in_ _—_ _for Iwaizumi._

I failed him. I couldn’t support my ace. I’m not good enough for him.

_Does Iwaizumi feel this guilty when Tooru cries on him?_

_If Tooru wasn’t a good enough setter to Iwaizumi’s wing spiker, then how would he ever be enough as Iwaizumi’s boyfriend? Tooru touted his strengths and flaunted his looks, but behind that confident façade was nothing. Just a weak athlete who never went to nationals_ _—_ _not even once._

 _He failed his team, he failed himself_ _._ _He won’t fail Iwaizumi, too. Not again._

 

Tooru’s not moping. He’s not.

So what if Iwaizumi didn’t want him around? Tooru doesn’t care. He went the last five years without Iwaizumi wanting him around. He hoped that this time would be different, but Iwaizumi obviously didn’t care enough to try and be his friend again.

Tooru at his desk, leaning over so his nose is inches from his computer screen. He’s spent the last _—_ God, he doesn’t even know how many hours _—_ fixing the program Kindaichi designed. It used the data from KIC 710620 to come up with a pattern for a Dyson sphere, in an attempt to configure the data to a logical structure. The logic behind it is if they could show that it has the potential to be a megastructure, he could convince more people of the potential for extraterrestrial intelligence. 

“Oikawa-sensei,” Kunimi says, peaking around his computer. “You should take a look at this.”

“Can’t it wait? I’m in the middle of _—_ ”

“Your star is dimming again.”

Tooru shoots up straight. He leaps up out of his chair at Kunimi. “Show me.”

They race down the hallway _—_ or rather, Tooru races down the hallway dragging Kunimi behind him _—_ and into the lab where Kindaichi has the lightcurve pulled up on a screen.

“It’s happening again?” Tooru pushes himself right to the front, eyes darting over images in front of him. “Just like before?”

Kindaichi points to a spot on the screen, a divot in an otherwise straight line. “Yeah, this is the data we got from last week. I just finished converting the one eighty-eight’s data into this… ”

This is great. This is _fantastic_. This made coming to Harusei worth it (even if a certain hedgehog-haired _someone_ didn’t feel the same way). He would be able to pick up where he left off and finally make progress.

Tooru pats Kunimi and Kindaichi on the head. “Excellent work, my wonderful kouhai.”

Tooru heads back to his desk. There was nothing else to do but wait for the data to accumulate. Though waiting is infuriatingly painful for a person as impatient as Tooru, imagining where this will take them will do an excellent job of taking his mind off of Iwaizumi.

But first, he has to convince Kuroo to let him have the telescope for the rest of the week.

 

“Always two percent?” Kuroo asks. “Like milk?”

Tooru’s smile twitches. “I… suppose.” If he wants Kuroo to agree to let Tooru use his telescope time, he has to play nice. But it’s Kuroo, so he’s making that difficult.

Feeling vaguely out of place in Kuroo’s dull lab _—_ he only put up, like, two posters, how boring was that? _—_ Tooru leans over Kuroo’s shoulder as inspects KIC 720610’s lightcurve. His finger taps against his chin, and with each tap, Tooru’s annoyance rises a little bit higher. This was a simple yes or no question; he needed to get back to work. Kuroo was wasting his time on purpose, wasn’t he?

“Milk here certainly as some interesting _—_ ”

“Oh my god Tetsu you can’t just call my star _Milk.”_

“I wonder if I can image Milk?”

“Kuroo Tetsurou _—_ ”

“Hey Tsukki, come look at this.”

He hears a deep sigh from the other side of the room, and then Tsukishima comes rolling over to them on his chair. “What is it this time?”

Kuroo faces his screen toward him. “The most recent lightcurve from Oikawa’s star. Hey, don’t the two percent dimmings remind you of _—_ ”

Tsukishima pushes himself  away from the desk and begins rolling back toward his own. “I’ve already seen it.”

Tooru reaches out and snatches his chair. “What do you mean you’ve already seen it?” he demands.

“...I was talking with your grad students,” Tsukishima says. He pushes his glasses up his nose. “They’re annoying.”

“Aw Tsukki, I’m so proud of you!” Kuroo says. “Talking about space with other people _—_ you’re lying, you _do_ enjoy this!”

“Do not.” Tsukishima breaks out of Tooru’s grip and retreats back to his workstation. _How endearing,_ Tooru thinks. _My grad students made a friend!_

“So Tetsu-chan.”

Kuroo folds his hands and leans his chin on them, smiling wide. “So Tooru-chan.”

“Will you let me have your telescope time for the one eighty-eight centimeter?” he asks.

His smile tightens. “Tooru, you know I’m not in charge of who gets the telescope. That’s up to the supervisor.”

“Just for the rest of the week?” Tooru pleads. “Until we discuss it during our meeting with him?”

“I don’t know…”

“Please please please?” Tooru gives him his saddest puppy eyes.

To other people in their department, Kuroo might seem intimidating, but Tooru knows his biggest weakness, which is that he is actually a giant sap.

“ _Fine._  On two conditions.” Kuroo holds up two fingers. “You have to let us help. We’ll conduct our own research on it, and we can exchange data.”

More people to work with was only an asset. Setting more minds on the problem, especially ones with new perspectives like Kuroo and Tsukishima, could only help them.

“Done. What else?”

Tooru knows exactly what Kuroo’s about to ask the moment he smirks. “You have to call your star Milk.”

“No.”

“Do it!”

_“No.”_

 

“You’re brilliant, Oikawa; I can’t understand why you’re wasting your time with this.”

In the end, that’s always what these conversations come back to: you’re crazy to spend your time on something as ludicrous as SETI. Tooru thought he would be over it after hearing it so many times, yet every time he hears it, he wants to throttle someone. Especially now, when he was sure he was on to something. And especially from his supervisor.

He stares down the camera in front of the conference room, hoping his annoyance is conveyed properly through Skype’s sketchy camera quality. But his supervisor doesn’t even deign to look at him, imprudently shuffling papers on his desk. Tooru bristles at his callousness. Sitting here in conference room with the rest of the Harusei team watching him, his supervisor’s disrespect is embarrassing.

Tooru has a million things to say to him. How the discovery of an intelligent alien species would be the single greatest discovery humankind would ever make. How, even if they didn’t discover anything in their lifetime, they were paving the pathway for future scientists to make that discovery. How the work they did progressed other fields like machine learning and chemistry and physics. He breathes steadily through his nose and forces himself to hold his tongue. It takes everything he has, but he doesn’t speak against him. He holds up a stack of papers. “There’s new data _—”_

“And where is it going to get you, Oikawa?”

Tooru has never hated his supervisor more than he does now. Not only did he bag on his choices in private, but he was making an embarrassment of him in front of his team. “Excuse me?”

“This ‘new material.’ What difference will it make?”

 _What do you mean what difference will it make? It’ll make all the difference!_ “I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir. More data is better. With the tools we have today, we’ll be able to progress much more than we could have three years ago _—_ ”

“This doesn’t change anything.”

Years of practice keeps his grin in place while anger boils in his gut. First Iwaizumi rejecting his friendship, and now this. He tried so hard to do the right thing, but he kept getting rejected.  

He refuses to look at his colleagues. They’re probably looking down at him in pity, Kindaichi rooting for Tooru to fight back, Kuroo pleading with his eyes for him not to speak out of turn. Kunimi and Tsukishima… probably don’t actually care, but they’re no doubt embarrassed for him.

“Give me six months,” Tooru says. “Six months to find something.”

“I’ll do you one better,” his supervisor says. His lips curl into that aloof grin Tooru wants to smack right off his face. “I’ll give you a year. But if you haven’t published a new paper in a year, you’re done. You’re coming back to Todai to teach, and _only_ teach.”

Fingers tapping on the conference table, he considers the offer. Everything would be fine if he succeeded, but if he failed… Tooru doesn’t mind teaching _,_ he likes it actually _,_ but to not be able to do his research? That was the ultimate insult.

But he could go back to Tokyo. There was always a chance another university would take him on and fund his research, or maybe he work even closer with SETI in California.

It wasn’t like he would be leaving anything behind in Harusei, anyway.

“Deal.”

If these are the cards he’s dealt, he’ll take them.

“Good.” His supervisor should be grinning like the evil villain he is, but he doesn’t spare Tooru a second glance. “Now that we established that, does anyone have anything else they want to talk about?”

Everyone looks down at their feet.

“No? Then this is goodbye.”

He hangs up the Skype call, and the room is silent.

“Who does he think he is?” Kindaichi says, angrily crossing his arms. “How dare he talk to Oikawa-sensei like that! I hate that guy.”

Kindaichi’s loyalty warms his heart, but it’s not enough. He’d need Kindaichi’s brain and his drive and everything he had to offer if this was going to work. He’d need that from everyone.

His supervisor always spoke to him like he was reaching for the impossible. And maybe he was, but Tooru believed that the impossible was within reach, because he had no other choice unless he wanted to surrender his dream.

But when people were constantly questioning him, their doubt shakes the walls of his confident facade and weakens the foundation of his resolve. What if they were right? Should he just study normal astrophysics like everyone else? What if they understand his data better than he does? What if Tooru’s seeing things that aren’t there, making things up, just because he wants to be special? Is he not as smart as he thought he was? Does he need help?

Tooru folds his arms on the table and buries his head in them. “ _Please_ tell me I’m not crazy,” he says. “This data... I’m not making a huge deal of nothing, am I?”

A reassuring hand pats his shoulder. “You’re not crazy,” Kuroo says. Tooru peeks up out of his arms, and Kuroo pats his head.

“I had my doubts,” Kunimi says. “But there’s something unusual about that star for sure.”

“Yeah!” Kindaichi agrees, nodding vigorously. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Even Tsukishima speaks up. “I wouldn’t be working on a project if I didn’t think we would succeed.”

Kuroo slaps his hand over his chest. “Tsukki!”

Tooru spends so much time in his own head, sometimes he forgets about the world outside his head. Specifically, the people supporting him. Tooru complained about everyone rejecting him, but that wasn’t completely true. These people haven’t rejected him. Not yet.

“Thanks, guys.”

Tooru picks himself up, straightening his rumpled collar. He claps his hands together, and looks to each of men around him. They can do this. Tooru knows how to work with a team.

“Alright team,” Tooru says. “We’re going to crack Milk’s mystery.”

 

There’s a knock on his apartment door.

Tooru lifts his head up off the couch. He’s still new in town, and there’s only one person who has his address.

_Knock knock knock._

Tooru groans. He doesn’t particularly want to see him right now, not when he’s exhausted from work and still reeling from the conversation with his supervisor, so he lays back down.

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK._

“Okay, _fine!”_ He rolls off the couch, stomps over to the door, and swings open the door.

The first thing he sees is a picture of the full moon, the shadow of a flying bike cast over it. It’s the cover of _E.T._ He cocks his head. _Not what I was expecting._

Iwaizumi peaks out from behind it. “Uh…hi.”

Tooru crosses his arms, blocking the doorway with his body. “Hi.”

Tooru eyes him up and down. He’s wearing a tank top again, somehow, even though it’s freezing out. Green eyes dart back and forth nervously as he holds the DVD in front of his chest like a shield. Strangest of all, his beard is gone. Even though his jaw is still scruffy, he looks younger.

“I, uh, I just wanted to apologize for yesterday,” Iwaizumi says.

Tooru straightens his back, lauding his few centimeters of height over Iwaizumi. “Glad you had the decency to apologize,” he says.

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck. Tooru doesn’t miss that little eye roll. “Do you, uh, have a moment?”

Iwaizumi is horrible. Absolutely horrible. Not only is he still more mature than Tooru, but he is nearly as cute, too. Even now that he was an old man. It isn't fair. Tooru already made his peace with Iwaizumi’s rejection and with just a smile from Iwaizumi he was ready to take it all back.

“Depends.”

Iwaizumi holds up the DVD case of _E.T._ again, wiggling it in front of his face. “I was hoping we could watch this together?”

Tooru bites his lips, refusing to smile. _Shit_. It’s late, and he doesn’t want to deal with the awkwardness that still lingered between them from yesterday. But Iwaizumi looks so _cute_. He brought him _E.T._ _—_ damn Iwaizumi for targeting his biggest weakness: sci-fi cult classics.

 _Stop it Tooru. You’re friends_ _—_ _just friends. Don’t make the same mistake as last time._

“You do realize I don’t have a DVD player.”

“Fuck. Right. But…!” Iwaizumi drops the hand holding the DVD and holds up a brown paper bag in the other. “In that case, I have milk bread.”

He should say no. He’s still mad at Iwaizumi, and he wants to keep holding a grudge. But he brought milk bread too?

“Ugh, _fine_.” Tooru kicks his door open wide and walks back inside, indicating for Iwaizumi to follow.

They settle on Tooru’s couch, the only furniture he owns besides his mattress he has set up yet. He presses himself into the corner cushions, while Iwaizumi perches on the edge, brown bag resting between his feet. After a moment of sitting in silence, Iwaizumi pulls out a loaf of bread and tosses it to Tooru.

He holds the bread between his hands, plastic wrapping crinkling as he turns it back and forth.  

“This actually wasn’t all I was here for,” Iwaizumi says. “I was hoping we could… you know… talk about us?”

Or course Tooru knew that wasn’t all he was here for. He places the milk bread on the arm of the couch, no longer hungry. “What do you mean, ‘us’?”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says it with the tone that means, _You know exactly what I mean._

Tooru had hoped they would never have to talk about it, that they could just snap back to being friends immediately. _Wishful thinking._

Eyes narrowed with determination, Iwaizumi meets his stare.

For a moment, neither of them says anything. Tooru watches Iwaizumi, waiting for him to say something. Like Tooru would be the one to start this conversation. If Iwaizumi wanted to dig this hole, _he_ could be the first to break ground.

Iwaizumi must get the message because he’s the one who breaks first. “I don’t know how it’s been for you since we started talking again, but it’s been a little weird for me?”

Tooru curls his knees up to his chest, and starts playing with the hole in his jeans on his knee, fingers circling around the frayed fabric. “Mhm.”

“And I just _—_ I’ve kinda _—_ Oikawa, would you cut that out?”

Tooru pulls a strand free and begins wrapping it around his finger. “Cut what out?”

Iwaizumi gestures to the strand of jean wrapped around Tooru’s hand. “That.”

“Why should I?”

Iwaizumi launches himself across the couch and snatches the string out of his hand. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation, dumbass!”

Tooru recedes further into his corner, glaring at Iwaizumi. “We never used to have serious conversations,” he hisses.

Iwaizumi cries out in frustration. “That’s exactly my point! You’re acting like nothing’s changed!”

Tooru looks away.

Iwaizumi sighs. He drops the string onto the floor and tucks his legs underneath him, sitting cross-legged on the couch, facing Tooru. “Look. This isn’t going to work if you keep doing…whatever you’re trying to do. You can’t just pretend that everything’s the same when it’s not.”

Tooru grits his teeth, ashamed at having been found out. He feels exposed, as bare as Mars as solar particles tear its atmosphere apart, no magnetic field to protect him. He pulls his knees higher up on his chest, hiding between the wall he’s built between them. “It doesn’t have to be different _—_ ”

“But it is!” Iwaizumi shouts. “We’re adults now. We have responsibilities, we have jobs _—_ you can’t just pop in whenever you feel like it.”

He tucks his face lower behind his knees. “If you don’t want to see me _—_ ”

“Of course I want to see you,” Iwaizumi says softly. “I just… need a little time to get used to us again, okay? Don’t you want that, too?”

He prods at the rip in his jeans again. “Maybe…”

_“Tooru.”_

His breath catches when Iwaizumi says his name. He looks up and catches Iwaizumi’s eye. Those are the eyes of a man who is trying, a man who cares.

Iwaizumi deserves the truth, he knows he does.

“I just… I didn’t want to lose you again.” Tooru forces the words out. They feel nasty is his throat, but it feels nice to get them out, like throwing up after having a stomach ache for hours. “I thought if I acted the same, and pretended like nothing had happened, it would go back to the way it was. And you wouldn’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Iwaizumi says.

“You should be,” he mumbles. _It was_ my _fault for starting this mess._ “I was trying to, I don’t know, rekindle our flame when the fire had gone out long ago. It was stupid _—_ there was nothing there. There, is that what you wanted?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says. “I get it. Wanting to go back to how it was. But I don’t think that’s good for either of us. We’ve changed.”

Tooru scoffs. “Have we?”

 _“You_ certainly have,” Iwaizumi says. “I’ve never heard you open up like that before. That was mature of you.”

A flush blooms across his cheeks. “Well I _am_ a mature, functioning adult now.”

Iwaizumi stares at him deadpan. “A fully functioning adult who doesn’t even have a table in his apartment that he’s been living in for what…a week?”

“Don’t question my life choices.”

Iwaizumi laughs, and Tooru can’t help but crack a smile, too. There was something contagious about Iwaizumi’s laugh, about Iwaizumi’s happiness, especially when Tooru was the one to cause it.

“Look,” Iwaizumi says. “I can’t read you like I used to, so I need you to tell me this stuff.” Tooru looks up and meets Iwaizumi’s eyes. Iwaizumi immediately looks away, cheeks pink. “And hey, if you think the flame of our friendship or whatever is dead, then, uh,” a hand wraps around his, “how about we light a new one?”

“Iwa-chan…” Hearing the words aloud, knowing that Iwaizumi really wants to try again, that he cares, he cares, he cares _—_ it's nearly too much for Tooru. They had evolved with time along with the rest of the universe, yet here they were, together again. There are a set laws that govern the universe, and this must be one of them: Iwaizumi Hajime and Oikawa Tooru will always be friends. They are locked in an elliptical orbit, always coming back to each other even after drifting far apart. And Tooru has never been so grateful for gravity.

Tooru pulls Iwaizumi into a hug. He falls back against the couch, pulling Iwaizumi down with him.

“Hey _—_ ”

He just wraps his hands tighter around Iwaizumi, nuzzling into his neck. This way, Iwaizumi won’t see the tears that are beginning to form in his eyes. He feels grounded - more grounded than he’s ever felt since the split in their friendship. The awkwardness between them was finally fading, and for the first time since seeing him, Tooru feels like he got his best friend back. With the stress from work, he needs him more than ever.

“Hey Iwa-chan?”

“What?”

“I actually do have a DVD player.”

“Oh my god.”

“Can we watch E.T. now?”

“...fine.”

 

Tooru convinces Iwaizumi to set up the movie for him. They watch on Tooru’s laptop, resting on a chair from the kitchen in front of the couch. When Iwaizumi sits back down, he doesn’t scoot back to the end of the couch, but sits right next to Tooru. It shouldn’t be this thrilling, but Iwaizumi has always exuded warmth like a heater. The heat from where their thighs touch is at least as hot as a blue giant star. He’s at risk of imploding in a supernova at any moment.

Tooru tries to focus diligently on the movie, he really does, but his gaze keeps slipping to Iwaizumi. His thigh touches Tooru’s, but he’s sitting at the edge of the couch, back straight, eyes fixed firmly on the screen. He looks like a mannequin. His tenseness is making Tooru tense.

About halfway through the movie, Tooru reaches out and pokes his arm.

“What,” Iwaizumi says, still looking straight ahead.

Tooru pokes him again. “You’re really stiff.”

Iwaizumi sits silently for a moment before kicking his legs up and settling back into the couch. “Happy now?”

“No.” It still feels weird. Iwaizumi talked about wanting to relight the fire of their friendship, and that they should act like adults, but right now he’s more like a nervous school girl. “Why did you shave your beard?” Tooru asks.

Iwaizumi shrugs. “It was itchy.”

Tooru wonders what his cheeks feel like. They’re probably rough, like bristles on a sponge. The scruff travels all the way down his neck, right to the point where it meets black ink. “Can I see your tattoos?”

“Uh. Sure.”

The movie plays forgotten in the background as Iwaizumi pulls off his shirt and points out the artwork on his body. He shows Tooru his first tattoo Saeko had given him, of two dragons intertwining around his left bicep. He holds out his forearm with Saturn on it. This one he got for his twenty-fourth birthday; he designed it, and Saeko tattooed it on him. 

Without warning, Iwaizumi removes his shirt. Tooru gasps when Iwaizumi turns around for him and he can finally see the tattoo on his back in its full glory. It’s a tree.

Stretching from the bottom of his neck to the top of his butt, the tree hugs him in a woody embrace. Strong, dark lines of bare twisted branches spread out across his shoulders, fusing together into a wide truck, slightly bent in the middle. Gnarled roots knot at the base of his back, curling under the waistline of his pants. Flecks of texture give the tree depth; Tooru’s sure that if he touched it, he’d feel rough, patchy bark.  Most magnificent are the hundreds of tiny, bright red leaves filling the branches. They shift across Iwaizumi’s skin as he moves, making it look like they’re fluttering in the wind. 

It’s a maple tree. Tooru knows it’s a maple tree because there was one in Iwaizumi’s backyard. It was the perfect tree for climbing; they used sit in the branches together and pick off the leaves as they turned red.

The tree suits him. The strong roots, the magnificent branches reaching high, the powerful swirls of knolls in the bark, the bold red of its leaves. While Tooru’s mind soared above the clouds, Iwaizumi was always there to ground him. Or, he used to be. Until his crush soared out of control and Tooru spiraled too far for anyone to reach. 

His eyes follow the flecks of texture and before he knows it, Tooru’s trailing a finger down his back, tracing over branch and down the trunk of the tree. The illusion of texture is just that, an illusion; Iwaizumi’s skin is soft, the muscles underneath still hard. Tooru feels the ripple of his skin as Iwaizumi shudders.

Tooru yanks his hand back. “It—it’s nice,” Tooru says.

Iwaizumi throws his shirt back on. The tops of his ears are red. “Thanks.”

“Is that all of them?” Tooru asks.

“I, uh, I also have one on my thigh. I did it myself, actually.” Tooru glances at his legs, clad in sweatpants. “It’s, um, an astronaut. You’ll see it the next time I wear shorts.”

Tooru hums in agreement. It’s funny. A few years ago they were fine getting naked around each other in the locker room and now Iwaizumi was too embarrassed to take off his pants. Tooru doesn’t blame him. He’s glad that he doesn’t, actually.

“You have a lot of space tattoos,” he notes.

Iwaizumi smirks. “Guess whose fault that is?”

Tooru grins back at him. “You’re welcome~”

“Wanna finish watching the movie?”

“Yeah.”

It’s awkward, but not as awkward as it was half an hour ago. Tooru thinks he’s getting the hang of this ‘rekindling the fire’ thing.

The hour grows late and the movie stretches on and their mouths form yawns and with each passing minute they let the tension out of their bodies until they’re curling up against each other like sleepy kittens. This time is doesn’t burn hot like a star, just warm, like hot chocolate.

By the time the movie’s ended, Iwaizumi has fallen asleep on Tooru’s shoulder, just like when they were kids.

He can’t let this moment be lost. He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of Iwaizumi, of his head resting on Tooru’s shoulder. He posts it on Instagram with the caption, _Looks like we’re still locked in each other’s orbit._

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated!! thank you so much for your support!!
> 
> come talk to me on [tumblr](http://satyr-syd.tumblr.com) about iwaoi and/or aliens


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